THE SACREDNESS OF MOLESKIN

Lost little Black Leather Notebook wrapped in Moleskin & tied with a red leather thong tie. It was in my possession up until dinner last night 2/14/21 at the Famous Quincy’s Steak House in Buena Vista, Co. This has a great sentimental value to me. I will identify by contents written in pages. Please call 505-654-xxxx.

It had been two weeks since I posted this ad, and not one call. I had virtually given up hope of ever finding it. I was reflecting on a life’s worth of scribbling of notes and gestures that had been assembled, in my little black leather personal assistant. The memory banks of a life’s lessons and quotations. I was sitting in a little Bistro in Old Colorado city. Owned by an Austrian and a native of the country that founded the croissant. His croissants are really something to be desired. Unquestionably out of this nation, if not the world. This Bistro is a required stop when I come to Colorado Springs. I was savoring these fine soft, buttered, flakey croissants when my phone started vibrating. I had a call coming in, an unrecognized number was calling. Not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet ambiance of the Bistro. I silenced my phone and let it go to voicemail. I finished my wholesome fresh delicacy and coffee. Getting the fuel I would need for the busy day in the city.

With calls from unknown numbers, I figure they can leave a message. I thought nothing of the missed call in the bistro. I went about my day completing my errands in the city. Grateful, I was able to get everything done in one day. This will give me the whole day to catch a ride back into the mountains.

I get myself a room for the night on the west side of the city. Tonight, I will be staying in a little cabin right of a babbling creek, with a soft wind rustling through the trees. The quaint little cabin is nestled right against the bottom face of Pike’s Peak; characterized as America’s Mountain. Some people buy little fountains or play soft nature music to fall asleep. I prefer the true nature sounds; nothing compares to the actual sound of Life growing, in an instant of a moment. This can not be replicated anymore than you or I can be.

Seated in an old wooden rocking chair, listening to the songs of the creek and wind. I am Grateful!! I give Wopilla(gratitude) for the Red and Purple Sunset. I have lived life for another day, although I was amongst the chaos of being in the hustle and bustle of the city. I was able to manage myself and life well enough to get things accomplished, safely. It was a good day, a great success to live life another full day. I am grateful to have a warm room and a full belly, in these frigid temperatures of a Colorado winter. I know there are some not as fortunate. I pray for them. I am Grateful they too, have lived thru another day. I ask for compassion on them. May I live with a consciousness of their needs and pains. This will keep me Humble and Grateful.

I settle in the cabin as the sun goes down and the temperatures begin to drop into the freezing digits. A quaint log cabin room, dimly lit by the old floral glass lamp on the nightstand. Gazing around the room looking for a plug in to charge my phone. I plug it in, OOH Yeah, a missed call and voicemail. I retrieve the voicemail. It is a gentleman with a British type accent, and he claims he has found my little black notebook. Tremendously surprised; just when I had given up on ever finding it. A full circle was completed, and it has come back.

We decided to meet at the Bistro, I like to frequent when in the city.

The next morning at 3:33, I awaken. This is a normal time for me. I am not sure why? Every morning between 3:00 & 3:44 I awaken. I use this early morning time to give Wopilla (thanks and gratitude) for waking to another day of life. I meditate, maybe journal some thoughts or notes. This would prove to be a difficult process that morning. I could not shut down my racing mind, playing badminton with thoughts of the possible outcomes of finding my memoir, with all the notes from my journey through life. Is this man genuine? Is it a Scam?

Our planned meet time at the Bistro is 9:30 in the morning. On the approach of the 9 o’clock hour I am in line at the bank to get the reward money. I walk the short distance from the bank to the Bistro. My palms are sweaty, my shirt is stuck to my back from the nervous sweat dripping of my neck and shoulders. Waiting for the crosswalk signal, I can actually feel my legs shaking within my boots. My mind is racing I am so afraid! I am petrified! I cannot even pinpoint why?

I walk in the Bistro and locate my designated chair. At least I think it is my chair. It is not like I ask others to give it up when I arrive when it is occupied. I prefer this chair; it is close to stage yet remote with a good view of the historic park across the street from the Bistro.

Precisely at 9:30, (Julian) the Austrian gentleman that owns and operates the Bistro approaches my table. We greet each other, for I have been to this establishment 15-20 times. Good congenial customer relationship, not really knowing each other that well.

He asks: “Are you the one? Missing a little black book?”

Exclaiming: “Yes!” I ask; “How could you possibly have found it? I lost it ninety some miles from here.”

He states: “I found it in the corner of his Bistro, when cleaning up one night, a week or so ago.”

He Continues on: “Let me ask you a question? How is it? That a little black notebook is worth $2000! Yes, it is a professional layout, has rounded corners, and acid free paper. It does have a bookmark ribbon and an inner pocket. Which only has a page removed from the back with names and a Roman numeral after each name. The pages inside have only life quotes, and I would say: "parables of life".”

In a moment of awkward silence, I respond: “This book is a memoir data bank of what I believe to be the finer points of intellect. In my Fifty+ trips around the Sun, I have pondered and learned a few things:

There is a maximum speed for Life

There is always something Happening, in every instant of a Moment

Death is the Beginning of Life

The more I know the Less I Know

The comprising in this notebook, are nothing of mine. They are only words on paper; detailing a play characterized by word play. Most everything has been said by somebody, at some time, by some point. It is just put in a manner that makes sense to me. Even though there are genuine authenticate sayings or quotations of my own. It really is just another way of saying “that”, which what has already been quoted. Wherever the notebook is: it is being shared.

The real value to me in that notebook is in the inner pocket. There is a list of people I am indebted with: I owe them in a way different than others. They have helped me in hard times of my life. Whether it is a financial debt, a life lesson debt. They did their part in giving a hand up. I give back in the laws of a circle, in reciprocity. I cannot truly have, that which I am not willing to give away. That piece of paper is the whole reason for the reward. Without it, I have no way of cleaning my side of the street.

I am not necessarily always responsible for what Life may throw in my direction. I am responsible for how I react. A few on the list I could never repay; for in the ways, they have helped & guided me. That is okay; I will share freely as it was given to me, when I was ready.

Everything has its time and place in the ebb and flow of the Universe and Life. Two weeks ago, I was finally able to sweep up the baggage in my closet. I need the notebook to make my amends where needed.

It is time for the compilation of those words to be characterized in a book; “A Survivor of Ritual Abuse: Untangling the Minds Tricks.”

Julian: a somewhat tall thin, bald Austrian gentleman, refined with some type of knowledge or schooling with business.

He says: “What if I were to offer you $20,000.00 up front for you to start on that book, with more to come as progress dates are met.

Do you know what I did in Austria before I came to America?”

(bewildered look)

Me: NO!

Julian: I was a producer and MM Marketing for Authors of books.

Me with disbelief: I cannot believe I am sitting with someone with experience in exactly the path I am on. “Really? You are kidding me. No way!”

(pause) sobbing as tears flow!

Julian: What is wrong?

Me: Life has been a trudging journey this last three years. I mean I have somewhat of a home built out of pallets. With a wood stove for heat, it is in the National forest. Do not get me wrong, I would not want to live anywhere else. I set it up in the middle of winter. Not greatest location evidently. With our current storm cycles, it thaws between storms. With the pool for a floor, I figured it was a good time to come to city. I can sleep in a comfy bed where; I can just turn up the heat. It was time to get supplies and I had some business to take care of.

(Pausing) whipping tears from my cheek!

Now you are telling me. The little black notebook of my life’s memoirs is lost ninety miles from here. Someone else picks it up and loses it in your business?

Let me get this straight, you are going to offer me $20,000.00 to write a book, on my Survival through the Black and Red Road of my journey.

Julian: “Yes, that is exactly what I am telling you. Not only that”, as he sits down taking out the soft fine leather checkbook and ball point pen out of his upper left breast pocket. “Exactly how do you spell your name so I can write out his check. Then we will go where you need to, to get it cashed or whatever is needed.”

Crying and Sobbing in utter Speechlessness, I manage to Sincerely get out the Two most Powerful and most Beautiful Words in the Universe. “THANK YOU!”

Julian: One more question; Why the Moleskin? Why wrap the little black notebook with Moleskin?

Me: A story of the Sacredness of Mole dirt (soil): The 1st Nation deems Mole dirt very Sacred. They would rub it on their bodies before battle, to be swifter than gunfire. There are reports of bullet holes thru clothing without the warriors being wounded. I figured it was fitting to wrap the words and wisdom of the indigenous people in the same Sacredness. The Red sash is for the Red Road. I could be wrong. I think it is a Sacred Thing! Yes? No? There seems to be a super phenomenon happening right here and now. No?